So lonely so pretty such a lack of diplomacy


Did you see? I started a new blog about running. Well rather, the thoughts I have while running. I’m excited for it, but it’s hard. I’m not clever, every time as you are well aware. I just wanted to get into the practice of writing every day, and since I run nearly every day it seemed like the practical thing to do. Also I need writing samples that are a little more, eh, censored. Next time you are bored you should check it out. I’ll try not to be too redundant but redundancy is one of my favorite words.

Spring/Summer is finally in Seattle and it is about time. Today I spent the day at Green Lake with my friends Anh and Dennis. We made jokes the whole day and it was nice to be in the sun. There was a guy roller skating around the lake the whole time we were there (which was hours upon hours). At one point Anh asked what we thought he was listening to on his headphones. I immediately suggested “Love Shack” and we all agreed that was totally what he was grooving to on repeat. I threatened to yell “AND GET YOUR JUKEBOX MONEY” at him on one of his next passes but then we moved away from the path and into some shade.

Then, like usual we part ways and I walked home and ever so conspicuously the inevitable sense of WTF am I doing with my life crept back in.

Far-out so far-out, such a fall-out
Not only that you’re lonely

Fight or flight. Treading water. Not moving. Fight or flight. I have a phone interview tomorrow for a job in Kansas. I’m worried I might actually get it and have to decide if I want to take it or not and I’m not sure what my answer would be.

I don’t know what I am doing anymore. I never did. I don’t know what to do next. Fuck. Here we go a fucking gain.

I had to lie on the living room floor for a little while.

Maybe I need some roller skates. Or some jukebox money.

All I want to do is run. I get up. I wait for my body to be ready. I run. I know how far I can go, and every few weeks I tack on a little extra distance. But then it’s over and I have the whole rest of the day to try and figure out what to do with my life.

I just want to keep running. When I’m running at least I’m doing something. I’m moving. I’m breathing. I’m thinking about love and life and the way when I breathe in air my lungs take it in and my heart pumps blood and it moves the oxygen through my body and my muscles flex and extend and propel me forward.

With running I get to hang out with my favorite songs. These endeared jams of former playlists keep my company while I think about old loves and new ideas. I battle with the elements and play chicken with other runners.

It’s the last thing I feel like I have, and I’m dangerously close to overextending myself. But I can’t stop. If I stop I won’t have a reason to get out of bed. And when it’s over I have to wait 24 hours to run again. I’m well back on my way to fighting weight for the first time in years. My roommate is doing the elimination diet (no wheat, cheese, alcohol, nightshades and other certain things) and I am on precisely the opposite.

Man, Magellan. I’m in a cannon right now. Not quite sure where to find the path back up, and it feels like it’s taking forever.

Forever is a long long time
When you’ve lost your way




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